


Kind of A Big Deal

by asingerofsongs, MayGlenn



Series: Stars and Skies [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Asexual Rey (Star Wars), BB-8 Ships It, Bromance to Romance, Chocolate, Cinnamon Roll Finn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Nightmares, Oblivious Finn, Pre-Poe Dameron/Finn, Protective Poe Dameron, The First Order Is Shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asingerofsongs/pseuds/asingerofsongs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn had been raised by the First Order, a member of a massive and impersonal army, where the weakness was trained out of you—or the life, if you weren't strong enough.</p><p>Poe went to the medical wing as soon as he got off duty, as he had every day for the past week. The other pilots had cycled through thinking it was sweet to thinking it was funny that Poe had a new crush, to thinking it was just kind of sad. He wished they'd tease him again rather than give him those pitying looks. It meant that they thought Finn was never going to wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind of A Big Deal

Poe Dameron went to the medical wing as soon as he got off duty, as he had every day for the past week. The other pilots had cycled through thinking it was sweet to thinking it was funny that Poe had a new crush (they knew well his preference in partners—“It’s really more a lack of preference,” Iolo once said to explain him—Poe had been in love with men, women, and genderless aliens before), to thinking it was just kind of sad.

Poe wished they'd tease him again rather than give him those pitying looks. They meant that they thought Finn was never going to wake up.

But he was, he had to, Poe told himself. He'd never been drawn to someone like he was to Finn. He felt responsible for him, wanted to take care of him, and, in an odd way—a _very_ odd, way, very uncharacteristically, he knew from those rare moments of self-reflection—that he wanted Finn to kind of maybe take care of him a bit...too?

He shook his head. The kid had rescued him in a vulnerable moment, back on the _Finalizer_ , and _that_ was the desperate adoring gratitude he was still feeling. He owed Finn his life, of course. And Finn owed him his. It was just—

_Could he expect an ex-stormtrooper to love him?_

Especially when Finn was clearly infatuated with the Jedi girl—and who would blame him? Rey was—what little he knew of her—well, precious and also badass, and _she_ hadn't caved under torture, and she was actually going to succeed at _his_ mission, finding Luke Skywalker. Finn would be a lucky guy, indeed.

Of course, Poe thought as he stripped his flight suit to his waist and tied it, and collapsed in the chair the medical staff had placed for him (it turned into the bed he had slept on for the past week), none of this mattered if Finn didn't wake up.

…

Finn had been raised by the First Order, a member of a massive and impersonal army, where the weakness was trained out of you—or the life, if you weren't strong enough. He'd been injured many times, severely so one or two of those, and he could, without so much as a moment of consideration, say that he had never hurt the way he hurt at the moment he regained consciousness.

He wasn't sure _why_ he hurt, but he was sure that if he didn't get up and do something immediately, Captain Phasma was going to add insult to injury and set him polishing floors for the next ten years.

He tried immediately to sit up, before opening his eyes or bothering to register his surroundings, but that hurt _worse_ and he had to stop trying as soon as he'd started. It had the effect, at least, of jarring him to full consciousness, and to the understanding that he was neither in his uniform nor the clothes he wore underneath, and that he could feel a surprisingly soft blanket under his hands.  The confusion in no way inspired him to calm down, even while he caught up with himself.

He'd escaped the First Order, and met Rey and her little droid—Poe’s  little droid, actually, who'd helped him escape, who he'd helped escape. There'd been fighting, and flying, and some more fighting, and Kylo Ren, who he'd known from when he was a Stormtrooper only as a faceless terror he never had to deal with directly, and Rey—oh, no. No no no, she had to be fine—she could use the Force! They had to go back for her, he had to get up and find Poe and they had to go back and get her.

Poe would never admit that he jumped when Finn sat up—or tried to, poor guy—but he recovered quickly and pressed a hand to his chest. "Whoa, whoa, Finn? Finn, thank the Maker, easy, buddy, you're okay. You’re okay, I gotcha. Don't try to move." Finn’s eyes were still closed, but he was breathing harshly and his brow was furrowed. The medical machines beeped urgently, and Poe looked around for the rush of medical staff he expected would be coming. "Hey, hey, Finn, can you open your eyes for me?" One hand was still heavy on Finn's chest, but with the other he cupped Finn's face, brushing a thumb over his eyelids, as if to wake them up. "Come on, let me see those pretty dark eyes," he said without meaning to, but not regretting it, either.

He knew that voice. If Poe was telling him that everything was okay, they probably were, but still...  "Find Rey?" he asked, as urgently as he could manage given that his throat was scratchy and dry.  He cleared his throat and reached for the hand that rested on his chest.  He opened his eyes and blinked several times.  Poe looked okay, too, though he also looked tired, and right now he looked worried, but he was wearing his flight suit, so he must have been out on a mission, which meant he was probably fine. Probably. "What happened? 'R you... you're alright?" he asked, just to be sure.

Damn, but Finn really _did_ have pretty eyes, and Poe had to clamp down on something inside him not to _squeak_ when Finn blinked blearily up at him. "Hey, buddy, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Rey's fine. You're fine. We're all fine, relax. You're the big hero," he said, his face breaking into a wide smile. He didn't move his hands.

"Fine?" Finn echoed, surprised and almost unbelieving. He actually wasn't sure he felt fine, he hurt too much for fine, but hurt was better than dead, even if being injured and more-or-less helpless conjured up a version of panic that all the sound logic in the universe couldn't have entirely stopped. And the various monitors, especially the one beeping the still-too-fast rhythm of his heart, was not helping, broadcasting his panic for anyone within range to hear. "What _happened_?" he asked, stubbornly pretending the heart-monitor was not being obnoxious and loud.

"Well—" Poe stammered, hands moving down, ghosting over his friend's body as if he could divine places of hurt. " _Are_ you fine? Do you hurt? Let me get you some—"

But before Poe could even offer the former stormtrooper some water, the doctor moved in, flanked by a nurse droid.

"Is he awake?" Dr. Kalonia asked.

Poe nodded, but only belatedly moved away to allow her and the droid access to their patient.

"It's not every day I get an ex-stormtrooper with a lightsaber wound in my med bay," she said with a helpful smile, turning off the beeping and checking his vitals. “My name’s Dr. Kalonia. How do you feel, young man?" she asked.

Finally, the machine shut up. Finn relaxed, if only enough to consider not lying completely to the doctor. He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "It's...bearable."  He was quiet while the nurse and the droid fussed over and at him, glancing occasionally at Poe. "Can I get up?" He asked the nurse. Not that he was sure what he'd do if she said yes, since he wasn't actually sure he _could_ , but he thought he might be willing to try getting out of here.

The doctor laughed, thinking this was Poe she was dealing with: bravado through jokes that he didn't actually mean, but she swallowed it when the look on the poor boy's face seemed serious. This wasn't Poe, though she shot him a glance. "No, soldier," she corrected. "No, you need to rest. We'll talk about getting you out of bed in a few...days." It wasn't a lie: they could _talk_ about it, then, but he wasn't getting out of that bed for a week if she could help it. "I'm going to give you a little bit of something for the pain, but it's going to make you sleepy. You just rest for us, all right? You’ve earned it."

It was possible that Finn pouted briefly upon being told he wouldn't be leaving for at least several days.  But it was unbecoming to continue doing so, and anyway, he was too tired to carry on with it for long—and that was before the pain medicine the doctor had given him kicked in.

Leaving him to the droid, Dr. Kalonia turned to Poe. "I'll let the General know he's awake, she'll want to talk to him. I don't want him sitting up or moving yet. He should have plenty of water and I'll have MT-7 get him some protein drinks until he can sit up to eat solid food." Then she paused. "Er, aren't you on active rotation?"

Poe shook his head. "I can have someone cover me for a few days," he said in a low voice, his priorities shifting radically now that Finn was awake. "Thank you."

Dr. Kalonia nodded and left, but Poe waited for the med droid to finish before he returned to Finn's bedside with a broad smile. Finn was _awake_. Life Day had come early this year. "You want some water?"

Finn managed a sleepy smile for Poe and nodded. "Water would be great," he answered, then added, "So we destroyed the base?"

"Yup." Poe nodded, unable to stop grinning. "No more Starkiller." He stood up to pour water from a pitcher into a cup, and put a straw in. "Okay, nothing heroic now, I'm gonna help you lift your head," he said, tenderly sneaking one hand under Finn's head to help him drink, and guiding the straw directly into his mouth even though Finn's lips reaching for the straw were so _cute_. "There, little sips okay?"

"I... can't believe that actually worked," Finn admitted between sips of water, mumbling a little as if not quite sure he wanted to admit that he'd maybe sort of had his doubts for a few minutes there.  It wasn't like they'd had any other choice, but still...it could have ended very badly. And it hadn’t exactly ended well—Rey could have been killed, Han Solo _had_ been killed, and Finn had a feeling he’d almost died—even if they’d ultimately succeeded at destroying Starkiller before it destroyed anything else.

He was somewhat determined to stay awake, if only because he had important questions that needed answering.

"Did your jacket survive?" Like that one. Important questions. He blinked sleepily, wondering how much of that he'd actually said out loud.

Poe snorted, wiping a droplet of water from his chin with a finger. "Yes, it's just there. Kriff, I give you my jacket for one day— _one day_ , Finnie—and you wreck my jacket?" he accused, teasing.

"Only took you a couple _minutes_ to wreck my fighter..." Finn replied, though as a witty retort, it left a lot to be desired. The TIE fighter hadn't even technically been his... "Finnie?" he asked, momentarily confused by the nickname.

Poe laughed, his eyes crinkling in delight. "Fair enough. But I fixed it, see?" he said, plucking it up from the back of the chair to show Finn the neat cut, stitched up. "Matches your back right now. Though I think the doc does better work than me." He sat down. "Sorry, I like to nickname people. Is Finnie okay? Maybe you'd like Finno, or—" Poe shrugged. He couldn’t think of any other nicknames that didn’t stray dangerously into romantic partner pet names.

Finn shrugged—ow—and added, "I like those." He shifted, ever so slightly, to get a better look at the jacket, and raised his eyebrows. " _That's_ why it hurts..." he ventured.  "Or. Hurt? It doesn't hurt right now." That would be the pain medicine the Doctor had mentioned. He’d never had pain medicine before. "Kinda tired."

"Hey, don't move." Poe's smile relaxed, gentled, and he laid his hand once more on Finn, this time over his hand. "You're tired, you sleep. You can sleep. You definitely deserve it."

"Just woke up," Finn grumbled, but he was already half-asleep, so it didn't sound very earnest.  Without really thinking about it, he flipped his hand over so his fingers, relaxed now that he wasn't panicking, curled partially around Poe's hand. "Y'should sleep too. Look tired," he added, and then let himself slip off to sleep.

Poe huffed and smiled, mainly at how Finn's hand curled in his, like a bird trying to keep warm and safe in its nest. Only when he was sure Finn was fast asleep did he feel the urge to lift Finn's hand up to kiss his knuckles, but by then he had enough time to think it through, and decided against it, chewing on his lip instead.

Poe didn't want to move his hand, though, and eventually he leaned forward, pressing his head to the bed at Finn's side so he could take a short nap and still be holding Finn's hand.

…

Finn woke up hours later, still fuzzy from the pain medicine but too hungry to stay asleep.  The lights had been dimmed, and with no mechanical beeping to bother him, he woke up gradually enough to register that his hand was still resting comfortably in Poe's, and that his friend had taken his advice—sort of—and fallen asleep draped half over Finn's bed.

He was going to have a sore back, hunched over like that, but he was out cold, and Finn glanced down at him, carefully moving only his head. He was considering feigning sleep until Poe woke up, but then his stomach growled--loudly. Apparently he hadn't eaten in some time...

Feeling movement or somehow feeling Finn's consciousness, Poe snapped awake. "Finn!" he mumbled, blinked, and was mostly awake. "Hey, buddy, you okay? You hurting? Want some more water?" He let go of Finn's hand to rub his eyes. "I think I slept as long as you did," he said a bit sheepishly, sliding his chair closer.

"I'm okay," Finn reassured Poe, shaking his head to both of his other questions.  "Just hungry."  It was true, his back wasn't hurting again—yet. He narrowed his eyes at Poe, who still looked tired, and then frowned.  "Have you been sleeping?" he asked.

"Yeah—about—" Poe checked the time on one of the monitors. "Three hours? More like four." He rubbed his eyes again. "I can get you some food, Finn, hang on." He stood up, finding a can of protein shakes. "They're not great, but better than nothing and they go down easy." He got a straw again, and this time lifted the bed up a fraction so Finn could drink more easily. "You can have two or three of these if you want, so don't rush. Small sips."

"I meant recently.  For more than three hours," Finn answered as Poe held the protein shake up for him to drink. He tasted it—not horrible, actually. Not as bad as the protein sludge he was used to in the First Order, certainly, because this at least tasted vaguely of... "What does this taste like?" he asked Poe. It was sweet, and a little bitter, but not so much that he didn't want to drink it.

Poe glanced at the can, moving his head so he didn't move the drink out of Finn's reach. "Chocolate? You probably haven’t had much of that, huh?" he said, unsure whether he should try to laugh that off or pity his friend. He ignored the question about rest. He'd slept plenty, right here.

"No. Is this what it always tastes like?" He had a feeling, based on Poe's earlier statement, that this was a poor imitation of actual chocolate. He took another sip, but it still didn't taste _bad_. When he'd finished the protein shake, he hummed thoughtfully.  "What happened while I was _—" asleep? unconscious? comatose?_ "out? How _long_ was I out?"

This time Poe checked the date. "Eight days? And no, chocolate is usually much better. I'll get you some. Let's see...there was a small celebration after the destruction of the Starkiller base—then back to normal patrols. Er, Rey left to go find Skywalker." He shrugged. "Otherwise she'd be here with you, too." He tossed the can in the recycler, and held up water and another shake. "Water? Or you still hungry?"

Finn smiled a little shyly. "Um... still hungry," Finn answered. "How's Rey going to find Skywalker?  I thought no one knew where the map led."  Last he'd heard, the map BB-8 had carried was unfollowable—no one seemed to recognize where it belonged, and by extension, how to follow it.

"Right, how about moonberry this time?" Poe suggested, opening the can and sticking a new straw in before holding it up to Finn's lips. "I think R2 came out of hibernation or whatever and turns out he had the other part of the map?" He shrugged. "I just fly the planes, man, they don't tell me things," he teased, but there was a dark thought that followed: maybe not anymore, they shouldn’t.

Finn couldn't think of any more questions, for the moment, and contented himself with sitting in silence. He sipped at the protein shake and crinkled his nose, pulling his head back and looking at it suspiciously. "Okay, this one is gross," he remarked, but drank most of the rest of it in two very large gulps, straw notwithstanding.  Better to drink it fast and get it over with before his complaint could be mistaken for not wanting it. He finished the last of it in one more gulp.

He was about to tell Poe just how nasty moonberry tasted when he belatedly realized why he'd been warned—repeatedly, to be fair to everyone else—to drink slowly.  " _Shit_ ," he said, swallowing on reflex as he concentrated on not completely losing what little lunch, or dinner, or whatever he'd just managed to ingest. "Bad idea," he said, and laughed weakly.

"Oh no!" Poe cried, recognizing the signs and raising the bed a little more so he was sitting upright, and grabbing a basin to hand. "It's okay, man, you're okay. You can puke in here if you need to, but it'd probably be nicer for us both if you didn't." He grinned hopefully, and then his hand went to Finn's middle, resting on his stomach. "That okay?" he asked, and then began to move his hand gently in a circular motion. "My mom would do this when I felt sick. Sometimes it helped. I can—” _Oh stars what was he doing?! He was making this weird!_ “if you don't want me to—" he pulled his hand back, feeling awkward.

"It's okay," Finn repeated, and Poe’s hand returned. His stomach flip-flopped again, and not the confusingly pleasant version that sometimes happened when Poe was around. He leaned forward, trying to curl in on himself, which was the exact wrong thing to do. He froze, his hand grabbing clumsily at Poe's, and closed his eyes for a moment, muttering to himself. "Calm down, calm down, calm down," he kept repeating, willing his body to stop making a racket.

"I _am_ calm," Poe teased softly, leaning into Finn to support him. "I've got you. Easy, Finn," he whispered. It was far more distressing than he thought it would be to know Finn was in pain, even if just nauseous. "If you need to puke, go for it. I've had enough new recruits puke on me in G-force training, it wouldn't kill me."

"I don't _want_ to," Finn answered, although he leaned gratefully on Poe, taking deep breaths as his back, at least, stopped screaming. His stomach was still not entirely committed to keeping the shake down, but he thought if he could just avoid moving at all for several minutes, he might be okay. "G-force training sounds horrible," he informed him.

"They didn't put you guys through it?" Poe wondered, rubbing his shoulder— _now how did his other arm get there?—_ to the same rhythm as he rubbed his stomach. He really hoped no one walked in on them like this, but he wasn't about to stop, since it seemed to be helping. "If you want to go up in space with me some more we'll put you through it. But we'll save the details for when you're feeling better. Think you could manage some water—maybe an actual _sip_ this time?"

"I wasn't going to fly anything..." Finn responded.  He relaxed gradually, letting Poe prop him up since he didn't seem to mind and since he couldn’t support himself, and nodded gently. "I can manage water." He said it like a threat to himself: You better handle water, or else. "Sorry—this is...this hasn't ever happened." When he'd been sick when he was younger, he'd maybe been given the day off of the hardest training. More usually, he'd been given boosters to get through the day.  At night, if he didn't feel better, he'd curl up on his bunk and either sleep through it or not. There'd certainly been no one to sit by and comfort him if he felt sick.

It was kind of nice, to be honest, even if he did feel ridiculous. Someday, he'd return the favor.  Right now, though, he kind of just wanted to just pause here until his stomach stopped trying to mutiny.

"Okay, no rush. It's here when you want it," Poe said, trying to juggle holding onto Finn and holding both water and basin at the ready. Since the belly-rubbing seemed to help, Poe hummed a song he remembered from long ago, a childhood song, something his mother used to sing. Finn never got to be sung to by his mother, he guessed. "You can sleep, too. Water will be here. This basin will be here. I'll be here."

"'M gonna fall 'sleep, you keep doing that," Finn warned Poe, though not loud enough to drown out the hum of Poe's voice.  He was still thirsty, but... but if he moved, Poe would probably stop humming, and he kind of hoped that would carry on for a few minutes. There was something calming about it—probably because it was proof that someone else was nearby, and if that person being Poe helped even more, well, he wasn't awake enough to concern himself over if that meant anything. He considered warning Poe once more that he was going to fall asleep, but before he could do so, he was already asleep.

Poe slowly became aware that Finn had gone slack in his arms, but he didn't let go, not until—well, he didn't know when, but his legs and back had gone shaky from the position, and he had to rearrange his friend back on his bed. He lowered the bed so it was flat again and comfortable, and kept the water nearby. He took the third can of protein shake, drank it down for his own dinner (and lunch?), and shifted his chair into a bed.

BB-8 rolled into the room and nagged at him to sleep in his own bed, but without much hope.

"I'm okay, bud. You can charge up in here with me if you want?"

BB-8 whistled and settled down. [Fine. Did you sleep last night?]

"I slept _great_ last night, actually, thank you. Neck was a little sore, but at least I _slept_ ," he growled, and BB-8 whined, hurt. "Aw, buddy, come here. I'm sorry. I promise I'll sleep great right here."

A suspicious bleep.

"Look, I'm even getting a proper blanket, are you seeing this?"

 _Chirp_!

"And water, I'm drinking water." He laid his jacket over Finn after he drank, and finally settled on his own bed, near enough that Finn could touch him, and low enough that BB-8 could get his attention easily. "All right?"

BB-8 made a satisfied noise, bumped his bed gently, and then rolled over to the power socket.

"Five credits says some hapless medic trips on you in the morning," he chuckled, and fell asleep still keeping an eye on Finn.

…

The next time he awoke, Finn felt much more rested. He woke gradually, awareness of his surroundings filtering in incrementally until he opened his eyes and looked sleepily around without moving. The dull ache in his shoulder was echoed in his back, but as long as he was still, he assumed it wouldn't get much worse. There was a soft glow over by the wall outlet, and although he couldn't quite see what it was over the edge of his bed, he assumed BB-8 had shown up at some point to keep Poe company.

Poe, he could see easily. The pilot was fast asleep on his chair-turned-bed, within easy reach if Finn had needed him. He was sprawling, but judging from the state of the blanket under which he slept, he'd been that way long enough to have moved if it were truly uncomfortable. Finn considered waking him up and telling him to go to wherever his actual bed was, but it would probably do no good.

He hadn't really seen Poe this still since he'd met him, and he certainly hadn't seen him sleep, not really. The catnaps that the pilots and everyone else on the base seemed to catch whenever they had a moment hardly counted—even fully asleep, there was always a sort of tense anticipation in the passed-out pilots. If they were called suddenly to duty, it didn't take much to wake them, and they were so coherent that there was no way they truly slept.

But Poe was completely relaxed, now, even snoring slightly because he had his head turned at an awkward angle. He wasn't coiled, ready to bounce to his feet and fly something, anything.

Finn caught himself grinning stupidly at the other man, and stopped. He didn't know why he did that, sometimes. Maybe it was sheer relief that the only friend he'd ever had wasn't dead on Jakku, or maybe it was just the comfort of seeing a familiar face and not a stormtrooper mask. But then, that didn't happen with anyone else, not really, except for when he saw Rey.

It must be because they were the people he knew closest to his own age. That made sense, right? Some long-latent human thing that made you more likely to bond strongly with people of your own cohort? It seemed a good explanation.

He was grinning again, at Poe's sleepy face and messed up hair. He stopped, before Poe could wake up and decide he was being creepy.

Poe was a light sleeper under the best of circumstances, and though it was only here around Finn that his stupid mind quieted enough for him to really sleep, BB-8 bleeping very quietly but urgently made him snap awake. "BB-8? What... _what_? Oh, shit," he said, realizing he hadn't ever reorganized the duty rosters, and he leapt up to talk into his comm link, only then realizing that Finn’s eyes were open, and he waved silently. "Jessika. Jess. I need you to cover me today. Please. I will pay you. Back. Okay fine I'll pay you, reorganize the duty—never mind what I'm _doing_ ," he hissed. "Thank you." Then he turned back to the bed with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I didn't wake you, did I, pal? How you feeling?"

"I was already awake," Finn answered, leaving it at that. He gestured where he thought BB-8 was and smiled when the little droid rolled over and chirped extensively at him. "Still can't understand you, little guy," he told him, but the droid didn't seem especially put off by it. They made a delighted trilling sound that ended on the honking noises Finn had learned to associate with sarcasm of annoyance, though. He frowned. "Uh... Sorry?" he asked, and BB-8 honked at him again, rocking in place and not looking at him. Finn looked at Poe and raised his eyebrows. "Am I in trouble for some reason?"

Poe laughed as he got up, disentangling himself from the blanket (had he really not taken off his shoes?) and putting his communicator away. "BB-8 says they’re glad to see you're awake and now they’re mad because you worried them." He stepped up to Finn's bed and sat him up a little. "You ready for that water now?"

"Oh. Sorry, little guy," he told the droid, who rocked thoughtfully a few more times and then chirruped in apparent forgiveness. "Was it... Um... It was pretty bad?" he asked, this time holding onto the bottle of water Poe offered and drinking it very slowly. He wasn't stupid enough to make that mistake twice.

Poe batted Finn's hands away to help him drink, and not just because he thought he needed the help. "Oh, I knew you were gonna be fine. Wasn't worried at all. Just sleep here for the better rations," Poe said, wondering if the sarcasm would register. Finn had scared the hell out of him more than once over the past week. "Between you and me, BB-8 is a bit of a worrier. Listens to 3PO too much." BB-8 whistled in annoyance, and Poe laughed.

Finn narrowed his eyes at Poe, suspecting that he wasn't being entirely earnest. "That bad, huh?" He asked quietly. He hadn't _meant_ to worry everyone. "But I can still walk, right? So it can't have been that bad. I'm not...You know, completely helpless." He'd survived this long, after all, and that was no small accomplishment—maybe he was lacking some of the knowledge that both Poe and Rey seemed to possess just from being alive, but he could fend for himself for a limited amount of time, and he had good aim with several weapons, and he could fight.

Poe raised an eyebrow. "Nothing about you is helpless." Preciously naïve, maybe, he didn't add. "Yes, the lightsaber damaged your spine...and we almost lost you at a few points," he said in a rush, deflating a bit as he came clean. "We had cause to worry because of what that kriffing bastard had done to you," he growled, feeling fiercely protective. "But you're on the mend now."

"That... Would explain why I feel like I've been trampled by a Tauntaun," Finn remarked. He was impressed they'd managed to fix a damaged spine—that they had _bothered_ —and flexed both feet just to prove to himself that he could. Granted, he hadn't actually tried walking yet, and probably wouldn't for at least... Well, another day, if the doctor let him out of here tomorrow.

He wasn't entirely sure he even wanted to think about how pleasant _that_ would be.

"It was probably your jacket," he joked. "You know, probably took some of the damage."

Poe pressed his lips together on his next smile, taking Finn's hand again. "I have felt it to be lucky," he said. "You'd better keep it."

"Are you suggesting I need good luck?" Finn joked. "If it's lucky, maybe you should keep it." But that seemed ungrateful. He chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip. "We could share it? You could borrow it until I can wear it again."  Doubtless, Poe would have to go on a mission eventually, and if that jacket was lucky, Finn would really rather he was wearing it. Taking it easy around the base hardly warranted wearing a lucky jacket. "Besides, who needs luck when you have skill? You definitely need it worse than I do," he said, and then laughed, unable to even say something so outrageous with a straight face. It pulled his back a little and made him wince, but he didn't stop grinning.

Poe's eyes grew large, and then his smile even larger, and he guffawed. "Pffffff!” he huffed. “Finn, you slay me," he said, squeezing his hand. He couldn't remember being so happy, which was pretty pathetic, he thought. Or it was wonderful. "We'll share it. That's fine. You know that jacket and I have been through a lot together..." he said, and when Finn looked interested, he continued with a story about a mission to Endor when he was first with the Resistance and the jacket saved his life, catching on a branch when he almost fell from a fifty-foot tree. Of course, he needed help to be gotten down, not only from his squad but from the Wicket W. Warrick himself, the chief of the Ewoks!

Finn gave Poe a suspicious look, trying to decide if the pilot was embellishing his story or not. "Why were you up a fifty foot tree?" He asked, finally, having settled on this as the oddest detail.

"Eh-heh, that's the other funny part of the story," Poe said, blushing now. "I'd got my Y-wing stuck in it," he said, putting his face in the hand that wasn't holding Finn's. "For the record, they are really sluggish and—I was, like, seventeen, I’m a better pilot now, okay?" he protested, but Finn was already laughing.

"You got a Y-Wing stuck in a _tree_?" Finn cackled, and gasped as it jarred his back. He couldn't stop laughing, but it kept pulling at his back, and the whole situation was ridiculous. He squeezed Poe's hand, which was only fair since it was Poe's fault he was laughing. "You put a Y-Wing in a tree," he laughed again, unable to help himself.

"Okay, okay, easy, easy, no more laughing. It's not that funny, and you're hurting your back," Poe said, eyes crinkly with delight, though his jaw tightened with worry and he lowered the bed.

"Could I... Um...." Finn paused, unsure if he wanted to explain that he really, really preferred sitting up to lying flat, especially since he couldn't sit up without more trouble than it was probably worth.  "Could I sit up?" he asked, finally, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible.

Poe's brow wrinkled. "Does it hurt?" he said, raising the bed back up a little, but not as much as it was before. "I think it's not supposed to be—you’re supposed to lie down? I could ask. Let me go ask—" he said, stepping backward.

Or at least, he meant to step backward. But Finn held onto his hand a little too long, and he didn't know BB-8 had crept up behind him, and with a "WHOA!" he toppled backward, landing hard on both elbows. "Damn it!"

"No, it's not that, it's just—Poe, you don't need to—Poe?! You okay?" he asked as Poe disappeared, having tripped over a burbling, slightly alarmed BB-8, who immediately started chattering.

"Maker damn you, Bee!" Poe groaned, having whacked both his funny-bones, and he rolled about on the floor. A droid, alerted by the commotion, or BB-8's alarmed squeals, whirred in. But its patient seemed fine, and it turned to Poe:

"Commander Dameron, what are you doing on the floor?" it asked matter-of-factly.

Poe groaned. "Er. Just tripped."

"Are you all right? Do you require medical assistance?"

"No, no. I did have a question, though. Is it all right for Finn there to sit up when he's awake?" He got to his feet, grumbling. "I mean raise the bed."

The droid answered immediately: "It is dangerous to incline the bed more than 3 degrees with back injuries. In Master Finn's case, Dr. Kalonia has recommended the bed remain in the lowered position as much as possible." The Med droid wheeled around Poe to lower the bed all the way.

"Oh. Great, thanks, MT."

That was a no, then. Finn didn't glare at the droid, not quite, but when it came over and lowered his bed the rest of the way, he may have growled a little in frustration. "I could sit up. It doesn't hurt," he told the droid, who merely repeated Dr. Kalonia's recommendation in a frustratingly even voice.  It was lucky he couldn't just reach the controls himself—very little would have stopped him from sitting up if he wanted to, if that were the case.

"Sorry about that," Poe said with a frown. "I hope I didn't hurt anything, I just thought—sorry." He took his friend's hand again. "It doesn't hurt to lie like that, does it?"

"It doesn't hurt," Finn answered, which was absolutely honest—it was actually more comfortable, if he'd had to admit it. But that still didn't mean he liked it.  He was tense again, awake enough this time to be both annoyed and anxious. "It's not your fault," he added, trying not to direct it all at Poe who was, after all, just trying to help. He managed a smile, he thought, and added a reassuring "Really. I'm fine."

Poe couldn't help but notice the tightness in his shoulders and mouth at the new position, how his eyes narrowed in something like suspicion. "Finn," he pressed, and took a guess: "You're safe here. I won't let anything happen to you. I know it's uncomfortable, but we need you to rest so you get better—I need..." he trailed off, but squeezed his hand.

Finn couldn't concentrate even a little bit with Poe talking to him, no matter how helpful the other man was being. "I know," he said through clenched teeth, "I _know_ ," he repeated. He knew, but it didn't matter as much as it probably should. Old habits died hard...

"Would you like me to tell you another story, maybe?" Poe tried, voice slightly shrill with concern.

"Poe, could you just—" he took a breath, "Give me a minute to think, please," he told his friend.

Poe's mouth was open mid-story, but he shut it with a click. Oh. He'd done—it was too much. He was too much. Wouldn't be the first time. "Oh, no problem, sorry," he said. "I'll just—I should grab a ‘fresher, I think—yeah." He paused. "You sure? I mean—" It wouldn't do to leave Finn if we was just _saying_ that, but Poe was used to being too much for people to handle. It wasn't Finn's fault. Finn was an angel for putting up with him for— "I'll check on you in...later," he said, shuffling out.

Poe stalked back to his quarters. He needed to get in the refresher, anyway. He even managed to smile at some of his fellow pilots, though he didn't stop to chat.

Had he messed things up with Finn already? It was embarrassing how quickly he'd fallen for him, anyway, so maybe it was for the best. Finn deserved better.

Finn noticed Poe leaving, in some corner of his awareness that wasn't solely focused on the too-fast beating of his heart or the way the lights above the bed shone too bright in his face, or the way he needed just to _move_ , and couldn't. He succeeded, for awhile, in taking deep breaths, which at least kept the panic from getting any worse. He focused on things that reminded him of where he was, that had always been absent in stormtrooper sickbays.

And then some poor nurse or doctor out in the hall tripped over a hovercart full of things that clattered, making a loud noise and causing Finn to startle, which made pain shoot up his spine and through the long cut that crossed it. What tenuous hold he'd had on his panic was completely lost, and he pressed back against his pillow, grinding his teeth and willing himself to _stop_ because he was being ridiculous. He closed his eyes, shutting out most of the light, at least, but it didn't especially help. He was having trouble catching enough breath, which only frightened him further. _Please stop_ , he begged himself, _Calm down, think of something else. Please!_

Not letting himself enjoy the refresher, Poe dressed quickly, and grabbed some rations he had in his room, though he just stared at them, not really hungry. He talked too much. Was too glib. Teased him too much. He'd lied to Finn about how hurt he was, this poor kid who had been lied to all his life.

The chocolate he found at the bottom of his rations stash made him feel guilty. The least he could do was bring him a gift. And then he’d leave again and—okay, so the thought of sleeping alone made him shudder, but your issues are not Finn’s fault, you pathetic—

The sound of machines blipping more urgently than normal alerted Poe that something was not quite right when he returned, and he almost tripped over BB-8 again, who was going on about Finn malfunctioning. "What? BB-8, what're you—" But he followed the droid into Finn's room, and was met by the sight of Finn whiteknuckling the sheets, jaw tight, and—were those tears?!—

"Finn? Finn! Hey, buddy, buddy, oh, hell, Finn. What's wrong, what do you need?" he began touching him, trying to assess what was the matter. Should he call a doctor?

Poe's sudden arrival probably should have startled him as well, but as soon as he heard his voice, Finn focused on it, and on the hands that nervously checked for some injury or hurt that was causing Finn's problem.

"Need to calm down," he told him.

"You're not—" Not hurt. Poe could have killed himself for leaving. For misreading the whole situation. Fuck. Why could he do nothing right? But this (still) wasn't about him, and Poe sat close to Finn, reaching across the bed to take his hand. "Hey, _hey_ , you're okay," he encouraged, trying to give him hope through a loving smile, knowing it wasn't much. "Nothing to worry about. You're _fine_ , and I'm here, and BB-8's here, and Rey's thinking about us while she's off looking for Skywalker. No First Order's getting in here, and...and it's _okay_ to relax." He pulled Finn's hands up so he could hold both at once, and he didn't care: this time he kissed them.

Finn forced himself to block everything out except for what Poe was saying to him in a calm, measured voice. He didn't immediately register the words, but the tone was enough to help him a little—and he caught the very end of what he was saying. "Sorry," he said, for worrying him, and for behaving like a child when they both knew this behavior would never have been borne had he still been a stormtrooper.

"Don't apologize, Finn, you're okay. Breathe for me. Can you breathe? Can I hold you? You can breathe with me," Poe said, and dared to slide up into the bed, both arms going around Finn though he tried not to move him. "I've got you, and you're safe, and you're going to breathe with me, okay? In-two-three, Out-two three. Got it? Big breaths, Finn. In-two-three, out-two-three." He brushed his fingertips over Finn's short-cropped fuzzy hair, and squeezed his hands.

After several failed attempts, Finn eventually succeeded in a deep breath in and one out. And then a second, and a third. Very gradually, his hands stopped shaking in Poe’s hands, and he felt his heartbeat return to normal, and the world filtered back in at normal volume and normal brightness. "What—was that?" he asked, finally, voice a little hoarse. Unspoken was the other question of how he kept it from ever happening again.

When Finn relaxed in his arms and started breathing again, Poe could have wept for joy. He'd seen panic attacks, but never one quite so bad. "A panic attack, I think. It's…fine. Happens to the best of us." He didn't let go of Finn, or get off his bed. "Here, drink some water," he instructed, holding up the cup with a straw and lifting Finn's head up on his arm.

Finn drank the water without thinking. Orders, he could follow. Easier that way. When he paused, he stared at the ceiling for a minute, lost in thought. "That happened once before," he told Poe. "That fight where you got caught. One of my bunk mates, he got shot, right in front of me." And he'd panicked, a little, though not so much as to completely lose himself, as had happened this time.

Poe’s breath hitched. “Oh, Maker, I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for?” Finn asked.

Poe grit his teeth. “I—I mean—the villagers didn’t—what if _I_ shot your friend, Finn?” Poe drew back slightly.

“It was you or us, right?” Finn asked, “It isn’t your fault.  Anyway, if you hadn’t…” If Poe hadn’t shot his friend, Finn might never have panicked. He might never have made the decision to run, content to remain as long as he had what passed for friends in a Stormtrooper unit.

Poe pressed his lips together. “I wish you could have saved your bunkmate, like you saved me." He let that sit, unsure. If Poe hadn’t shot that Stormtrooper, would Finn have decided to defect—in time to save him? That was a selfish thought, and he shook himself. “Anyway, everyone panics, you know that, right? Everyone has those moments. Happened to me during my first dogfight," he went on, something he never admitted to anyone before, except his father. "When one of my friends was shot down. I thought, was it worth it, you know?" He shook his head. "And I remembered how my mom always told me it's not the absence of fear that makes us brave. That makes us Jedi, or something," he said, huffing at the joke. "But bravery is when you're scared and you do the right thing, anyway. You're a brave man, Finn. A good man. I'd be dead or worse if you hadn't gotten me out of there. Rey would be dead. We'd all be lost without you, Big Deal," he added with a grin. BB-8 had taught him that nickname, and he hoped it would make Finn laugh.

Finn's eyes went wide and he huffed a laugh.  "Your little droid is a menace..." he said, and shook his head. 

"Think they'll let me sit up enough to play cards? I saw some people playing cards, back on Takodana." Where Rey had been captured, and Finn had been completely confused by the sudden appearance of a black X-Wing that took out several TIE Fighters in rapid succession. "You know card games, right? You could teach me?" he asked Poe. That would keep him distracted. Poe's stories probably would, too, but eventually the poor guy was going to get hoarse from talking constantly.

"Of course. I mean, I know plenty, though you're not supposed to sit up that much." Poe frowned, worried they’d be back in the same boat at that reminder. "But I could get books or holovids for the meantime. If you could just—if you don't mind lying down til we talk to the doc tomorrow? Hey, look, I can also bribe you with chocolate. With _real_  chocolate!" He grinned hopefully, reaching behind him.

"With /real/ chocolate?" Finn echoed.  Sure, he could probably be bribed with that. All he really needed was distraction, and if Poe was going to hang around and be distracting (which he seemed to do pretty well even when he _wasn't doing anything_ ) and he had some hope that the doctor would decide he could at least sit up if he wanted to tomorrow...well, he could probably handle the rest of the day without completely losing it again.  "Have _you_ eaten?" he asked suspiciously, and then looked at BB-8, who was looking between the two of them with soft, mechanical whistles every time his head moved. "Has he eaten?" he asked the droid, who chirped a definite negation. "If you're going to bribe me, then you're going to eat some chocolate too," Finn ventured, a little unsure if he was supposed to be telling Poe what to do, but reasonably sure that Poe would take the route of just not doing it if he didn't like being told what to do.

Poe laughed, weak with relief and the realization that, true, he hadn't eaten in a while. "Okay, okay. Don't have to tell me twice concerning chocolate. It's chocolate from my home planet, actually. Here, maybe I should get off your bed too, huh?" He said, easing down to his chair, and producing a whole package of chocolate. He'd have to work on getting some more, as "This was supposed to last me till the end of the standard year, so I'll have to get some more. Oh, but don't worry! They last me a year only because I make myself wait and then eat all of it at once. No self-control with chocolate," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Finn took some of the offered chocolate, looking at it closely and then blinking as it melted slightly—he hadn't quite been expecting that. He broke off a piece and ate it quickly to keep from making a mess and made a noise of surprise. "It's good!" he said, "Better than that drink.  Do all planets have different chocolate? What is it made with?" It was still melting, so he ate the rest of the piece he held quickly.

"Easy, here, you can set it on the wrapper so you don't have to eat it all in a rush." Poe said, resting that on his chest so he could have it after a bit. "This chocolate is from my home world, and I think it's best from there, but of course I do. Jess—one of the other pilots, you'll like her—she likes it from Naboo. You need a warm wet place to grow the cocoa beans, I think." He shrugged, nibbling slowly but steadily on his pieces. He meant it when he said he couldn't stop. "I'll get us some more, if you like it. Maybe we can press Jessika for a taste of hers. And someday I'll take you to the cocoa growers on Yavin IV."

"I think she'd give you some if you smiled and asked very nicely," Finn suggested, figuring that smile could win over almost anyone.  It won him over, after all, every time he saw it—that and the lip-biting thing Poe did when he seemed to be thinking, or when considering an opinion.

"Probably," Poe said with a wink. "If you don't want to finish your chocolate now, I'll save it for you. And I'll get us some proper food from the mess to eat for...whatever meal it is now. How's that sound? I'll get something soft for you, yeah? Not now, though, later." He took Finn's hand again, squeezing it amiably. "Want to watch a holovid? I can project it up so you can watch it lying on your back. I've got a few great ones about Luke Skywalker—er, they're made-up adventures of course. The General hates them." He giggled. "But they're great. The special effects are so bad! Like when he's using the force you can see the strings lifting things, you know. Or we could play a game? Some holochess?" He was aware he was babbling, but he couldn't stop: seeing Finn smiling even vaguely made him absolutely melt.

Finn grinned brightly. "I've never seen a holovid that wasn't telling me how to do something," he said, "Or maybe how not to do something." Anyway, he'd never watched a holovid that was intended to be entertaining, even if some of the training holovids growing up had been fairly hilarious. "And I don't really know chess, so unless you want to teach me..."

"I'd love to teach you," Poe exclaimed, "but for now let's put on a vid in case you fall asleep. But no laughing!" he told him sternly. "You'll hurt your back." He stood up. "You'll be okay if I go get the vids, and maybe some food?" His stomach rumbled, and his appetite returned with Finn's bright smile. Also, he had to leave before he did something rash, like kiss those plump chocolate-covered lips. Kriff, he had it _bad_.

"I'll be fine. BB-8 can keep me company. Right, little guy?" he asked the droid, who was still standing quietly toward the foot of his bed, doing that rocking motion that they seemed to do fairly often when they were idle.  Besides, if he was going to be stuck recuperating for any period of time, he wanted to ask if BB-8 would teach him how to speak Binary--without telling Poe about it.

BB-8 chirped pleasantly, and Poe smiled. "Okay, great! I'll be right back!" he cried, and started running down the halls. He felt like he was flying which, for a guy who flew a lot and knew how it actually felt, was saying a lot. He ran into Snap in the mess hall while he was filling not one nor two but three carry-out cartons of food—smiling at the kitchen lady, who thought he was adorable, thank you—and Snap laughed at him.

"Eating for three now, Poe? Or, hey, you got something going with those new girls? The twins?" he whispered conspiratorially, and Poe blushed:

"Those are _recruits_ , Snap, not 'new girls,'" he told him carefully. "Anyway, I'm bringing this back to Finn. Poor guy's never had real food I don't think, so I don't know what he likes—"

"And you want to impress him."

"Yes, and I want to—" But Poe caught the playful look on Snap’s face, and he glowered: "Hey!"

"All right, all right, Commander," Snap laughed, wandering off, leaving Poe to his three cartons of food and two canisters of different teas and pockets full of holovids, with which he promptly returned to Finn and BB-8, barely making it before everything fell out of his hands. "I'm back! With food!"

Finn snorted, the closest thing to a laugh he could manage without hurting himself.  "How much food did you _bring_?" he asked, although to be fair, he was hungry enough to eat almost anything.  He wasn't sure he'd really be able to, given the previous disastrous attempt at drinking too much protein shake too fast.  But his stomach was grumbling at him—had been since he tasted the chocolate.

"What's it all called?" he asked as the different smells hit him, making him even hungrier. "And what's this?" he asked, holding up one of the canisters of tea.

"It's called, well, hang on, let me set it out: these are noodles, and that's potatoes, and that's, um, a water fowl of some kind, and those are fried frogs, and this is—well, you must have had bread?" Poe recoiled: the poor kid had probably only had protein rations, and so without waiting for comment he launched into describing the teas and the rest of the food he had brought. "Okay, I'm going to sit you up just a little bit, just to eat, and you go back down after." He gave Finn a fork and set the tray on his lap for him to try what he wanted.

Finn wasn't actually sure what he wanted to try first, but the bread was warm, so he tried that first.  It was light, and a little sweet, and the dark crust tasted slightly smoky.  He thought about the frogs, but they looked a little strange, so he tried the waterfowl instead, only a small bite, and then the potatoes and noodles and small bites of everything else, too.  "It all tastes different!" he said with surprise, which...well, of course it did, it wasn't like he hadn't eaten _some_ food after he'd rescued Poe, but they'd been more rations, mostly, and hadn't tasted so much different from the protein paste he was used to, even if there was a bit more in the way of choice. "Is there one you like better than the others?"

"I'm more interested in hearing what you like best—" Poe said. "First impressions only, of course. You seem to like the bread. I like bread, too. Here," he said, spreading it with a pat of butter. They were lucky on D'Qar, where they got fresh food most of the time. "Try that."

"That's... butter, right?  Think I had some once, when we were in training. There was some that had been left behind," he said.  It hadn't been very good, but then, it'd been left behind quite a bit before he'd found it and hurriedly eaten it before someone could find out and take it away.

He was much more content to try it on bread than by itself, especially since this was unquestionably more fresh than what he'd tasted.

He took a bite of the bread and his eyes went wide. "That is a lot better than the bread I found that time."  He looked at the bread contemplatively, and then dipped it in the sauce that seemed to be associated with the waterfowl.  Unsurprisingly, that was also very good, and he sighed contentedly.  "Thank you," he said to Poe, though it carried a surprising amount of weight as a simple thank-you for food: he was thanking him for the company, and for being his friend, and for not leaving when he'd panicked, earlier.

"Anything for Big Deal," Poe said, grinning broadly before his eyes softened. "I—I mean I owe you a lot, and—and well, I like spending time with you, too, of course. It's not just because I owe you, even though I do. You're a good man, Finn." He shook himself: he was getting sappy again. "So which is your favorite?"

Finn was going to get BB-8 back for telling Poe about the "Big Deal" thing, he really was. But besides that: "You don't owe me anything. I did it because I wanted to—okay, and maybe because I needed a pilot," he said quickly, in the interest of honesty. "But I didn't do it because I wanted you to owe me." Surely Poe knew already, but in case it bore repeating, he added, "I thought it was you, when I saw an X-Wing take out all of those TIEs, you know? On Takodana. But I thought you were dead and I... well, I was—am, I mean, am—so glad you're not dead. I'm glad you're here—here like right here, not here like—you know...here."  He made a vague gesture with his hands and trailed off into one of those awkward silences that he seemed to cause more often than anyone but Rey.

Poe might have laughed at Finn's awkward explanation, but instead he smiled and patted his cheek, using as an excuse wiping some potato off his face. "I'm glad you're here, too, Finn," he said, feeling rather lame, but earnest. "You eat as much as you want, but don't make yourself sick," he said suddenly, to change the subject. "I'll start the vid. One of the Luke Skywalker Adventures?" He angled it so it shone just above Finn's head, at a height he could see it.

"Unless you can think of something better," Finn answered, and started slowly working his way through the other food on the tray, already resigned to leaving more than half of it.  "How are you even supposed to eat this," he asked quietly a little later, so as not to interrupt the show, "Is it literally a _whole frog_?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, deboned and deep fried. We eat them on my home world. I would have brought you crickets, too, but I thought we'd save some treats for tomorrow. You just pop em in your mouth," he said, demonstrating. Food had never tasted so good to him: it was like he was tasting it for the first time with Finn. "You don't have to try everything, don't worry," he said helpfully. "Okay, here they go. It's the first episode, so you shouldn't have any trouble following it."

Finn was somewhat doubtful, but he decided it was probably worth trying anything once, and ate the fried, de-boned frog whole. It crunched, which was definitely weird, but it wasn't _bad_. He could probably get used to the crunching, really.  He ate one more small piece of bread with butter on it, because he wanted to, and, no longer hungry, forgot about the food while they watched the vid. It was easy to follow, as Poe had said, but after about ten minutes he found himself growing drowsy.  He stifled a yawn and risked a glance over at Poe, watching him watch the show and smiling fondly without realizing it. Shyly, slowly, he reached over the short distance between them to rest his hand over Poe's, trying his best to be subtle. With a good meal—the best meal he'd ever had—in his stomach and the pleasant, distracting sound of the vid and Poe's occasional quiet comment, he drifted off so gradually he didn't even notice.

Poe's heart swelled as Finn reached for his hand, and Poe took it and squeezed it back, thoroughly enjoying himself—enjoying, mainly, the smile on Finn's face. He was so beautiful, and innocent, and _alive_ and okay, time to watch cartoons. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written from RP. Part of an already very long series.


End file.
